It's time to hold my own and drive...

Why is it whenever I'm in tears after dark when it's not summertime and I call my mother, she automatically assumes I'm having a depressive episode?

Okay, to be fair, it's probably because 90% of the time I am. Perhaps even 95% of the time. I don't exactly log the stats...

I posted earlier that I want to stop my meds. That I'm sick of taking them. That they feel like a crutch and I want a life free of them. My counselor suggested I try going down in the dose I'm on. Which sounds like a much wiser idea, I think. After all, it's been 6 years that I've been on medication. Going cold turkey this winter (so to speak) wouldn't exactly be the best of ideas...

Here's the thing...I find myself not so much feeling depressed during winter nights as just plain lonely. When I have nothing to do at night...with only myself and my thoughts to keep me company...those are times I hate. Times I feel restless and longing for something else. Perhaps I tend to confuse that with real depressive episodes. (Or perhaps they're more similar than they initially seem to be.) My trouble with these sorts of nights is that the meds don't do anything to help this feeling. This mix of boredom, loneliness, and longing. The meds don't help because that's not what they're designed to do. They're designed to regulate the chemicals in my brain. Not to get rid of the sad, lonely nights that I have from time to time.

The real solution for this is actively making plans with friends. Taking the initiative to make plans and go do things. Take responsibility for getting rid of these sad, lonely nights.

Now, here's the brain-twister. The thing I'm currently stuck on in my head... How long have I been merely feeling alone and unknowingly blaming the depression instead? Or, is there more of a grey area that I've traveled through and found myself nearing the opposite side of late? The side that's less like depression and more just a lonely feeling. And would I feel less lonely if the depression didn't come into play here? Or would I feel roughly the same way?

*sigh* The circular thoughts and ideas are starting to make my head spin. In the end, it turns out that the answers to these questions really don't matter. What matters is whether or not I'm in control of my life at any given point in time, or if I've stepped back and let something else take over again.

For I do believe that's been one of my main problems in my years dealing with my depression. Letting the depression take the wheel and steer. Or, alternately, letting the fear of my depression take the wheel and steer. And after 6 years of riding shotgun, perhaps I'm beginning to realize that I'd rather scoot over into the driver's seat and choose the road to drive down.

P.S. The driving analogy isn't mine. I was listening to an Incubus song, and suddenly the lyrics said exactly what I was searching for words to say:

Drive - Incubus
(bold type inserted by me)

Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear
And I can't help but ask myself how much I'll let the
Fear take the wheel and steer.
It's driven me before, and it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal.
But lately I am beginning to find that
I should be the one behind the wheel.

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there with open arms and open eyes. Yeah.
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there.
I'll be there.

So if I decide to waiver my chance to be one of the hive
Will I choose water over wine and hold my own and drive?
It's driven me before and it seems to be the way that everyone else gets around.
But lately I'm beginning to find that
When I drive myself my light is found.

So whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there with open arms and open eyes. Yeah.
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there.
I'll be there.

(the rest of the song is just repeating what I've already written, fyi)

Yeah. So. I need to take the wheel and steer. Pay attention to the road in front of me, the road beside me, the cars I share the road with, and what could be coming up behind me.

Tomorrow, I will go grocery shopping. And on the list will be ingredients for something new to cook for dinner. If my goal to learn to cook this year is going to be realized, I'm going to have to actually work to make it happen. (Go figure!)

I will also call my cousin who lives not far from me. I haven't seen her in about a year, and it's about time I start seeing her more often. And, I'll go to bed at a reasonable hour so that I'm fresh and ready for work on Monday.

Okay, with that plan, it's time to get myself off to bed. And time to take the steering wheel out of the hands of fear and give myself a spin in the driver's seat.

I want my freedom.

I want to know what it's like not to be on depression medication. I've been taking Wellbutrin for 5 years now, and before that, I was on Zoloft for a year. That makes 6 YEARS of depression medication. I don't remember what it was like to not have my mood/feelings/emotions modified with a depression drug of some kind.

I'm not saying I regret going on medication. It was necessary, it was the option that made the most sense, given that I was diagnosed in college. But, now I've been living for years with this medication and it's starting to feel like a crutch. I've started noticing for the first time that loosely-connected, sort of apathetic feeling with any emotion I experience. The glaze that the depression meds put on any emotion, taming them and making me feel less like I'm going to fall off the hinge.

But noticing that glazed, modified feeling with my emotions means that my life has quieted significantly enough to actually be able to notice that, right? Which means that I might be in a good place now that would allow me to try life without them, right?

So many questions go into whether this is a good decision or not. Most of all, can I handle life without the crutch of my meds? Or should I go through a year of increased stability before I try coming off the meds? What will life be like if and when I go off my meds? Will there be an adjustment period? Will it be hard? Will it make me wish I hadn't gone off the meds at all?

In the end, this is the conversation I'll have with my psychiatrist and my counselor...to figure out just what I want to do. They'll have answers to some of these questions, at least.

I just really want off the meds, though. I don't like that I've started to see them as a crutch. I've understood for so many years now why I need to take my pill every morning. I've come to terms with the necessity of being on depression meds. But it's different now. It's not that I feel like less of a person by having to take the pills (although, you can be sure that I did once feel that way). It's just that I want my natural emotions back. I want to cry at sad parts of a movie. I want to savor a smile in a happy moment. I want to feel that burst of passionate energy when I'm out with a guy...or when he kisses me (or whatever). And right now, I am distinctly aware of not feeling those things (among other examples that don't pop into my mind just now).

The fight in my brain about this is simply that I want off the meds but I worry about whether or not I'm ready. Typical. I'm a worrier. Perhaps, if left up to me, I may decide I'm never ready. But I want to be. I want to be off these damn pills. I want my freedom.

Talking...my own personal, easily attainable therapy

Do you ever find yourself clinging to things that are therapeutic to you? Things that help dissipate the horrible *depression* feelings (or lack thereof) and make you feel more "normal" or "human" or "not mentally diseased"?

I do.

And the number one thing that I find to be therapeutic? Talking things out. For me, if I can express it verbally, whatever "it" happens to be, it always seems to leave my brain and let me focus on other things.

And the talking can happen with almost anyone... my mom, my friends, my counselor, and sometimes, yes, even strangers. Obviously I tell different sorts of things to different people, depending on how much I know them and how much I think they'll understand. Strangers obviously don't get the really detailed stuff that my close friends and family, or my counselor for that matter, would get.

But, all the same, talking about things has always been a sure means of therapy for me. And I've found that talking to strangers...that is, people who don't know me or my situation well...is someone incredibly therapeutic at times. That's one reason I like counselors so much. They are strangers when you first go see them. They know nothing about you, and they are not in any way connected with your personal life. What's great about counselors is that even after they get to know you, they still are completely separate from your personal life, so in some ways, it's always like talking to a stranger...because they aren't connected to your life except for that hour every other week when you sit for a chat.

I should clarify here...because as I read over this post, it kinda sounds like I'm saying that I like chatting up random people about my life and my issues and whatever. That's not true at all. I define "stranger" in this case to mean someone I don't know very well, but whom I'm comfortable with. Like a friend of a friend, or someone. They get the title stranger because I haven't known them quite long enough to dub them "acquaintances" but they're most likely on their way to getting that distinction.

And these kinds of strangers are very therapeutic to talk with. About life, about ideas, about anything. Usually I don't get so far as to tell them I've got depression (reference former post about the taboo on depression in our society), but I talk about things that are linked to my depression...sort of selectively letting them in on bits of knowledge about me. Not too much, but just enough to be therapeutic for me, and keep up an interesting conversation with the person.

Hmmh, I feel like I'm rambling in this post. Not the kind of writing that I like...because I feel like I'm going nowhere, and only saying things to say them. However, in saying that talking is therapeutic for me, this blog also counts. I used to journal all the time, and my style of writing is to write as if I'm talking to someone. But a journal is never really read...and my hand always got cramped because I write a lot. (I also went through so many notebooks, it was getting a little ridiculous!) But here in my blog, I am actually talking to real people. Albeit, people I probably will never meet...*real* strangers, if you will. But nonetheless, I'm talking to someone as I write this. And so it's therapeutic for me because I'm verbalizing it. Putting it all to words and sending it out into the world, because that's all talking is, right?

I guess I have to wonder WHY talking is so therapeutic for me. What is it about verbal expression that makes me feel more at ease once I've done it? I said earlier that it's like the words pull the issue out of my brain as they leave my mouth (or in this case, my fingertips and keyboard). But I think it's gotta be more than just that. There's something amazingly wonderful to me about talking out problems and little issues...no matter how serious or not they actually turn out to be... And I'm so curious now as to WHY THAT IS.........

On fear and its affect in my life..

They say you should do at least one thing every day that scares you.

Okay. Sounds simple. There are many things that scare us, right? Little things, big things. The saying is certainly open for interpretation. But lately I find that those "things that scare me" are everyday things. Common responsibilities that people have to do everyday, or important items that will help make my life a lot better if only I did them. I suppose the saying still applies, it just seems that it suddenly applies in a way that wasn't originally intended...

Things that tend to scare me:
- paying my bills; reason: money is scary, not having enough money is scary, admitting to myself that I have to spend less money is scary, having to be responsible for my financial situation is scary
- taking my medication (well, this is an old fear that I've since dealt with); reason: admitting that I'm dependent upon a pill to control my moods and emotional state is scary because I takes control away from me and gives the control to the medication
- applying for jobs; reason: the rejection if they aren't interested in hiring me, the thought of doing something wrong - like applying for the wrong jobs or writing the wrong thing on my resume
- calling someone back (be it social or business or financial or whatever); reason: what if I run into something in the conversation that I wasn't prepared for or hadn't already thought through...what if I didn't know how to deal with the situation? - what would the person think of me?
- socializing (well, this fear is an on-again-off-again fear...it isn't always there); reason: what if I say something stupid, what if others judge me, what if they're all pretending to like me but really don't like me at all and talk about me when I'm not around, what if I make a fool out of myself and have no idea, what if I act in some way that I would judge others for?

Detect a pattern? Yeah, thought you might. But if you're not sure, let me help: the paranoia about 1) being judged or not liked and 2) doing things incorrectly. Ridiculous, right? But still there, nonetheless. And what do I do with these fears? They're not usually all-consuming (we are in summer right now, so I've got a much better grasp over these fears than I tend to have in the wintertime). But they are always there somewhere in the recesses of my brain, like a predator waiting to pounce. And that creates another fear: what happens when the "pounce" occurs? What if I can't handle it? What then?

Fear of the unknown. A fear we all share as a species. A very human fear. It requires a sentient being to worry about something that hasn't happened yet, something one can only speculate about, something waiting in a future that is impossible to predict.

And so, I take this saying to heart as I try to deal with these fears lurking in the shadows of my mind.

"Do at least one thing everyday that scares you."
- Today I called about 5 people that I needed to call. Was it scary once I got them on the phone? No. Everything was fine.
- Today I balanced my budget. Was it scary? Sure, a little. Money is scary. But I figured it out. I'll be okay.
- Today I started rearranging my resume. Was it scary? Sure, a little. I don't know exactly what words I'll use. But it's all good, I'll finish it tomorrow, and it will be fabulous.

What got the better of me? What didn't I do for fear of it?
- Applying to jobs. I have 8 of them in my email, waiting for me to write a cover letter and send them out. Did I do it? No. I'm afraid of it. I'm afraid of not ever finding a job...so you'd think I'd jump at applying for new ones. But I'm afraid to apply to the new ones. It got the better of me. I'll try harder tomorrow.
- Packing (I'm moving to a new apartment at the end of August). I'm scared of changing housing yet again. I'm scared of leaving my current roommate...the best roommate I've ever had, and one of the best friends I've had. My roommate and I get along so well together, we live well together. This year with my roommate has been so wonderful. And now, I have to leave. I have to start again with new roommates. I think I found a roommate situation that will work out well...but that unknown factor is still there. What if I'm horribly wrong, and my new roommates are a nightmare? I don't think that's the case...but regardless, neither of my new roommates is my current roommate. They'll never live up to the bar set by this roommate. I don't want to leave, I'm scared of changing.

Hmm. Another pattern emerges. I've already covered fear of the unknown. I guess with that fear comes the fear of change. They go hand-in-hand, right? Perhaps they're even different ways of describing essentially the same fear. Fear of change is simply a fear of leaving something familiar and dealing with something new and unknown. Fear of the unknown is really just a fear of something unfamiliar, a change in the familiar world of the present circumstances in which we live.

Then perhaps it's not that I'm afraid of all of these little details. I'm afraid of the unknown future before me. I'm afraid I can't handle the change that ultimately will occur in my life in the very near future. I'm afraid I won't know what to do with the new and unknown situations that exist in my unforeseeable future. I'm afraid I won't like the change that happens in my life.

So doing at least one thing everyday that scares me can apply to those details...the ways in which these larger fears manifest themselves in my everyday life. But I guess, on a broader scale, it means that I should face my fears of the unknown and of change every day. I should find new ways every day to cope with and perhaps overcome a bit more these underlying fears of what I can't predict and what I know has to change.

********************************************
And suddenly I get back to that place familiar place that every depression sufferer knows all too well: where is the line between where my depression affects my fears and where I'm a normal human-being with normal human-being fears? And how do I know the difference? And, really, when it comes down to it, does it really matter what the difference is if the depression is always there anyway?

Hmm...interesting thought, that. Does it matter whether a fear is caused by my depression or by the simple fact that I'm human like everyone else? On one hand, I'm inclined to think it doesn't matter. Like I said earlier: the depression is always there anyway. So it's just another cause of inevitable fears that others may or may not experience. On the other hand, though, I say it does matter, at least a little bit. The best way to learn to cope with your fears is to honestly assess the cause of said fears. What is the at the heart of those fears? Where are they coming from? Can I eliminate the source of the fears and therefore help eliminate the fears themselves? Or can I change a behavior to lessen the affect of a fear that will never truly go away (like fear of the unknown)?

If the cause of a fear is depression, then there's no away to avoid that. But I would approach coping with a fear due to depression differently than I would approach a fear due to a scary movie or a discernible and tangible danger. So, perhaps it is good to know where that line is...?
(You'll notice the ...? That would be my way of saying, "Yeah, I don't actually know the answer to that question.")

So, I conclude with that saying: do at least one thing everyday that scares you. For me, that could be taking care of everyday responsibilities, or facing broader fears that manifest themselves in the small daily life details, or dealing with some aspect of the complicated system that is my depression.

Depression can breed such bad habits...

How do you tell the difference between when you're apathetic because you're depressed and when you're apathetic because you're just lethargic and unmotivated?

For so many years, I've used lethargy and unmotivated as a way to escape from the horrible feeling I get when I'm depressed. Or should I say the horrible "unfeeling" since it's a lack of feeling really? And, now, well, I certainly can't say that I've found a way out of the depression. (Because that's not possible.) But I can say that I have found better ways of dealing with the depressive episodes. So, now I'm realizing that I have to deal with the habit of being lethargic and unmotivated to do anything. It's no longer a convenient way to hide from my depression...it's simply an annoying habit that deters me from feeling like I live each day to the fullest. And, as Chicago would say, it's "a hard habit to break."

Lethargy is like an addiction...and it's attached to so many home behaviors. I have a million ways of 'distracting' myself from things I need to get done. And I find myself wasting 3-4 hours at a time doing things to "calm down my brain" before I start in to the things I have to do. But my brain doesn't need calming down. Rather, my addiction to lethargy needs to be fed.

Oh, I find millions of justifications for why I didn't get something done on any given evening. But really, I hate the fact that I have such a hard time doing the everyday things that I'm responsible for. Most people think of drugs, alcohol, food, or eating disorders when they hear the word "addiction." But there are so many other things you can be addicted to. And I'm addicted to lethargy.

And I hate it. It just amazes me that it can be SO DIFFICULT to get myself to do something (anything) productive. When I really WANT to be productive. I WANT to get things done. I feel good when I accomplish things. Why is it so freakin' hard to get myself to do them?

It seems that this will be something for discussion with my counselor over the next few months...

Taboo...

Why is "depression" such a taboo word?

Seriously. People are so afraid of that word. I have to be very careful who I tell about my depression for fear of unfair judgment based on a word and the social connotations of that word, which takes any ounce of "me" out of their judgment of who I am.

And people that do know don't really get it either. How many times have I heard that classic response, "Oh, well, you know, when I get depressed, I just think about happy things and it cheers me up again." (Or some similar type of advice on how to 'get rid of my depression'.)

My speculation about the crazy taboo that is attached to depression has brought me to a few theories (of course, I may never get to any actual reasons).

1. Depression affects a person's mood and emotional state. And humans are extremely sensitive to others' emotions. We react to others based on what we sense about their emotional state, in addition to words or actions that a person is sending out. For a person not familiar with the effects of depression, this "depression-modified" emotional state is terrifying. A depressed person is suddenly unpredictable and dangerous. Their emotions are altered by a "foreign entity" that the other person does not recognize or understand. How then is a person supposed to effectively react and interact with the depressed person's emotional state?

2. People suffering from depression feel threatened by the outside world (whether justified by this socially-created taboo, or simply a product of the paranoia that grips a person suffering from depression, that's up for more speculation, of course). But we feel a bit less threatened by others who are also suffering from depression. And so we set up this sort of "in-crowd" of Depressed People. And this "in-crowd" is a very exclusive group; that exclusivity created by the fear of judgment and/or misunderstanding by the outside world. Don't immediately agree with me? Think about it this way: for those of you reading this who suffer from some form of depression, have you ever told someone that they will never fully understand depression because they haven't experienced its effects first-hand? And for those of you who do not suffer from depression, have you ever been told that by someone you know who does suffer from depression? Depression is impossible to completely understand if you've never personally experienced it. People can come close, if they've read a lot about it, or supported a family member or a friend who suffers from depression. Some people are allowed in the "in-crowd" based on amount of exposure to Depressed People. But you have to work hard to be included in this "in-crowd," well, unless you have depression. Then you have a free entrance ticket that's good for life.

3. Depression is often associated with suicide. And thus, a HUGELY bad reputation. Anything that would cause a person to want to kill themselves is obviously evil and should be avoided at all costs, right? (Um, remember that I don't think that myself...but I can think of many people I've met who would say that exact sentence.)

4. We are all afraid of what we do not understand. I think this is a big reason for the taboo...the fear of this thing called Depression. What is it? What does it do? How do you know if someone has it? How does you act around a person that has depression? What if you act wrong and offend them? Is depression contagious? Can if effect you like second-hand smoke affects a person? Is there something about a person that pre-ordains them to get depression? If so, what is it and do you have it? How do you know if you have it?

I guess there really are a number of reasons for this huge taboo about depression. And it's unfortunate, because it causes me to be afraid to use the word in normal conversation, lest someone hear it, realize I have it, and "judge me accordingly" (i.e. by the word instead of by who I am).

[And this in turn messes with my head. Topic for another post, I suppose, lest I digress too much from my subject: I've been living with my depression officially for 6 years now (unofficially, or pre-diagnosis, for who knows how much longer). And in those 6 years, I've been in counseling for 5.5 years. And every year I grapple with a new layer of my difficulty accepting my depression...and oftentimes this has to do with society's view of my mental illness.]

Really, this taboo will only disappear with education and exposure and acceptance. (How idealistic does that sound, huh?) People need to be exposed to the word, the people suffering from that word, and the true definition that word. And that word is obviously depression.

Hmm, lemme try something:

DEPRESSION!!!
Depression, depression, depression.

Depression.

DE-PRESS-ION

Depression...depression...depression...DEPRESSION!!!

Now, after reading that word a number of times, you feel just a little bit more comfortable with it, don't you? I know I do. (You also perhaps have started to think it's spelled wrong...which happens when you look at a word for too long...I know that's also what happening to me, haha!) And that has to be the first step for erasing this horrible taboo that we all suffer from. I sometimes wonder if "suffering from depression" should really be changed to "suffering from society's negative view of depression" because I don't feel like I'm 'suffering' from depression. I 'live' with depression. It's a part of who I am. And I don't think I'm a scary or dangerous person...why should the depression make me suddenly scary and dangerous?

Drastic Shift in Mood...ugh

It really amazes me that my mood can change so drastically day by day. Yesterday, I was bouncing off the walls. I was happy, I felt free and good about life and all that. Today, I'm tired, I'm down, I'm apathetic and unfocused, I'm unmotivated. All signs of that wonderful depression I've got going on inside. How does it change so much from one day to the next? I guess I can answer that question on the surface of things: there was sun yesterday (at least at the start of the day) and today there is no sun and a bunch of gloomy drizzling rain. And SAD is directly affected by the amount of sunlight I get. Sure, but having said that, I don't really fully understand how that can change things so dramatically in 24 hours. I guess I would think that the effects of the recent sunlight would last a couple of days and gradually wear off...but perhaps that's not the case at all... (Maybe what really needs to happen is that I need to read up a bit more on the effects of sunlight on a person suffering from SAD.)

This post will have to end here because I'm so tired right now, I'm falling asleep as I type... this is ridiculous.

Depression eyes focus on: fear

It's not that depression is a direct cause of everyday fears. It's not even that it intensifies fears really. Added stress in my life is the cause of that intensification.

No. It's that depression magnifies the irrationality factor in the everyday fears I deal with. It warps and twists regular fears into horrible fears that almost convince me that the worst possible thing that could happen will indeed come to pass. And those irrational fears create even more ridiculously irrational fears that lead to added mental stress caused entirely by my irrational "everyday" fears that turned themselves into little mental monsters.

FEAR

It's a powerful emotion...so powerful, I'm afraid of it. I guess it's like many other strong emotions in that sense. Fear feeds itself to create more fear, if left unchecked, just like happiness produces more happiness and anger brews more anger. (I say "if left unchecked" only because one can change one's mental state by stopping the flow of a single emotion...this is often incredibly difficult to do, but it can be done, nonetheless.)

No wonder, when I'm experiencing a depressive episode or just simply a "down" mood, I wish I could go hide under some coats for awhile until the problems disappear on their own. It's the irrationality infused into my common, everyday fears and growing into something ugly. And as children, we all learned that hiding generally took away the fear factor of a situation, and allowed us to try and understand from a safe hiding place. I'm not saying that depression reverts us back to childhood. We, humans, simply look for ways to comfort ourselves when we're not feeling the best...and often that search causes us to default back to former practices if no new experience has given us a better or easier option. Hiding under coats, or blankets, was oddly effective, wasn't it?

Ah, digression. Goes so well with my ADD. *sigh* Not that I really have anything else to say on this subject...just another observation through the eyes of my depression...

It's all another pattern, right? Then why can't I deal with it yet?

One thing I struggle with an awful lot is the difference between a depressed mood and a mere bad day. Or, closely related to that, sometimes I realize it's a bad day, but that triggers a depressed mood that causes me to shut down because the day has turned out to be a bad one...thus unable to get anything productive done with my day...sort of like giving up on that day and waiting for the next one to start so I can have a fresh stab at having a good day.

Whichever the case (today has turned out to be the second one), it's so frustrating! "Normal" people have bad days. Everyone has bad days. It's part of life...not everything is peachy and happy and great all of the time. Shit happens, and it happens to everyone. But somehow, it seems different when it happens to me. And I hate that, more often than not, I feel like I can't handle the bad day and mentally shut off until the next day comes along.

I'm not saying that I wish I could enjoy a bad day. Who does enjoy a bad day? I just wish I could take a bad day in stride and pick up my heels and keep going. I wish I could make myself not forfeit the day because things didn't turn out the way I wanted or the way I had planned. It's not like I have an infinite number of days to work with...and I've always been a firm believer in making the most of every day.

There, right there. That kills me. I just said that I believe that I should make the most of every day I live. So then, why this "give-up" attitude when the cards aren't dealt right? When my day is less than ideal? It's such a contradiction. And I have a really hard time dealing with that contradiction in my life. And it's the depression that does that. Makes me feel like I can't get past the whole bad day thing. Eats up my self-confidence and leaves me a shell of the person I've always thought I was. (And, still am! I still am that person, dammit!)

This is all a pattern, you know. So you'd think I'd be able to deal with it a bit better by now, yeah? The feeling of inadequacy associated with being "different" from the average person and so less capable to live my life. The feeling of worthlessness that comes when I find myself not dealing well with a situation. The feeling of hopelessness stemming from what seems a never-ending cycle of bad thoughts and pessimistic feelings. That DOWN feeling, that has no real name because it's a conglomeration of many different negative thoughts and emotions (including, but not limited to: sadness, apathy, lack of confidence, fear, feelings of weakness).

But alas, perhaps that's part of what this mental disorder does to a person, to me. It infuses me with an overwhelming sense of negativity and blocks out efforts/attempts to make myself happy again (or even "not sad"...I'd settle for that).

And now we insert the big *sigh* followed by the ubiquitous shrug of the shoulders that indicates I have no way to explain it all to myself. And this combo then indicates the end of my thoughts (for now at least) on the matter.

What depression actually IS (first of many posts on the same topic)

I went to a party with a friend this afternoon...a nice Saturday BBQ with a bunch of really chill people. The person who invited me is a friend of my roommate's, so I've gotten to know her pretty well. The sun was shining, people were laughing and having a good time, there was good food on the table and there were great smells emanating from the grill. Sounds like the set up for a great afternoon, yeah?

Wrong. (Apparently.)

Here's what really happened:
I was introduced to a bunch of people whose names I instantly forgot (not that big of an issue...that always happens to me...and is a topic for another post), I went through the food table and grabbed a hot dog, some out-of-this-world potato salad, and a beer. Sat down with my friend to eat. Watched people talking and laughing. Chatted a bit, but mostly listened to my friend chatting with people while I simply answered questions if someone talked to me. I felt a bit tired, but nothing that some good food wouldn't solve (I thought). Went for seconds. Couldn't eat any of it.

And this is where I started noticing something wasn't right here. All the sudden, everything on my plate looked hideous and I couldn't eat it. I couldn't finish my beer...it tasted awful. I couldn't pay attention to what anyone was saying. The world suddenly got significantly smaller.

And then it hit me: social anxiety strikes again. Terrific, I thought. Fan-friggin-tastic.

Let me tell you a little about myself on a normal, any day sort of day. I love to be the center of attention. I love sitting down and talking to random people. I enjoy meeting new people, and I'm known for finding new friends in grocery stores or on the T or walking down a sidewalk. I love being around people. I'm a very social person. I love having huge parties at my apartment with so many people that I realize that there are many people there who neither my roommate nor I actually invited directly.

And so, social anxiety is a crazy thing for me. So counter-intuitive, I have no idea what to do with it. How to process it, how to fight it, how to "control" it. It hits me like a ton of bricks and pretty much makes me seem like a useless space filler at a party/gathering.

But I suddenly couldn't talk to people at this party. I wanted everyone to leave me alone--or better yet, just simply leave for good. I stuck close to my friend to make it seem as though I was a part of a conversation, lest someone suspect something was really wrong with me--or worse: think I was just really lame. But again, let me remind you, I only spoke when spoken to. I didn't really laugh when something was funny. I forced a smirk, since that was usually all I could muster. I made the excuse of being tired today or feeling a little out of it all day.

But really, all I wanted to do was run into a corner and hide. How ridiculous is that???

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Why did this happen today? What caused it to flare up as soon as I hit this party with all these people? And why is it sooo embarrassing that it happened? Why does it always still surprise me?

I know I'm prone to social anxiety. I don't get really serious anxiety attacks (of the general, not-focused-on-one-distinct-thing-necessarily, sort). But I know that these episodes can happen. So, the surprise seems a little out of place, yeah?

I also know that there is no real answer to any of the 4 questions. It is, of course, up to interpretation and speculation. But truthfully, no answer will really satisfy me completely. Because, ultimately, it comes back to that little chemical imbalance in my brain telling me that I have depression. And that, somehow, is both a soothing thought and a completely unsatisfactory explanation for any given behavior I'm struggling to understand.

It's all so frustrating! As I watched people interacting with one another, I got this overwhelming desire to be normal "like them." Because those people have a home, most married and starting their lives together. Those people can manage their budgets/money. They can do laundry on time, they pay their bills on time, they know how to manage their time. They are relaxed and enjoying themselves.

And I suddenly hated them all for it! They're all happy. They're all laughing. They're all chilling out. And I can't even manage a conversation of small talk.

This episode sounds so familiar, yeah? Trapped inside my own brain, blocked by my lack of the proper amount of seratonin. This is what depression IS. Medical journals, textbooks, people, teachers, books, TV programs: they all tell us the "definition" of depression. But this experience today is what depression means in my life, in my world. This is what depression IS for me.

Intro

Before I begin my chronicle of my life with depression, I'll give you a brief intro to how depression fits into my life.

My form of depression is called Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD. What an appropriate acronym for a form of depression, huh? In a nutshell, this means that I get depressed when there's less sun out. Winter is when depression hits me hardest, but depressed moments also comes when the sun gets lost in the clouds from an extended rain storm.

I have been dealing with (suffering from?) depression for 6 years now. I just finished my 6th winter with SAD. And my mantra, when it comes to my depression, is simply this:

Giving up is never an option.

The day I give up is the day that I've allowed depression to take control of my life. I am not defined by my depression. I merely suffer the effects of it. I've always seen my depression as just another piece of who I am, like a personality trait, or the freckles I still get in the summertime. And so I live day to day with my depression, and I am forever searching for a sense of perspective and a better acceptance of this mental disorder.

Depression is, in simplistic terms, simply a chemical imbalance in the brain. But to all of us who live with it every day, we know it is so much more than that, or at least it feels like that. I find writing about it, talking about it to be very therapeutic. And so I begin this chronicle, as a way for me to gain my own better understanding of my depression.